This Is The Very Ecstasy
by the diggler
Summary: [2/5] The course of true love never did run smooth... or so the saying goes. Another year into his relationship with Cas, and Dean's got a lot to think about. It's affects their sex-life so much, they decide to head back to The Pit for some inspiration... And find help in the most unexpected ways. (bdsm AU. Follows 'What's In A Name' and 'All The Devils Are Here')
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:**__This is the third installment to what I'm now calling the 'Halloween In Bondage' verse, which includes 'What's In A Name?' and 'All The Devils Are Here', but it's not strictly necessary to read those fics to understand this part.

**Warnings: This fic contains BDSM.** But it's still a work of fiction, meant purely to entertain, and may not always be an accurate portrayal of the lifestyles and practices depicted. So I freely admit that there might be some magical-healing-cock this time around. And while this installment is a lot fluffier than the last one, there are still some brief mentions of past abuse. Additional warnings include switching, erectile dysfunction, piercing!kink, tattoo!kink, cock-slapping, fisting, public sex, exhibitionism and voyeurism.

**Full Pairing List**: Dean/Castiel, Inias/Samandriel, Dean/Castiel/Inias, Dean/Castiel/Samandriel, foursome ;p

* * *

_Where love is great, the littlest doubts are fear;  
When little fears grow great, great love grows there.  
-Hamlet, Act III scene ii_

~

"Oh yeah, angel-face, you're doing that so _good,_" Dean moans, eyes fluttering shut as his head lolls over the back of the couch.

The lights are on low, his stomach is well-fed, and his body is completely relaxed from an hour-long bath and massage. He's got his favourite porn on – the one with the guy strapped down to a bed while a priest "exorcizes" his demons – the volume just loud enough to hear the flogging sounds, without being too intrusive. And he's got his angel, kneeling on the floor between his legs, tonguing and sucking his nuts so sweetly, Dean wants to cry.

He couldn't be more relaxed. And yet…

"If I'm doing this so well, why isn't it working?" Castiel pulls back, frowning at the soft length of Dean's dick.

"I'm sorry, angel, you know I'm trying," he sighs, cupping Castiel's face with his hand and brushing his thumb over Cas' swollen, spit-wet lips.

"I know," Castiel grumbles. "This is the second priest porn we've watched tonight. I'm starting to think I should buy a cassock, but I don't want to risk the added association with celibacy," he pouts. Dean manages to huff a weak chuckle.

Castiel heaves a sigh, massaging his jaw a little before laying his head down on Dean's thigh, arms curling around Dean's leg. Dean echoes his sigh, massaging the back of Cas' neck as they silently watch the priest ride the possessed man's cock to completion.

"Is it me?" Castiel finally whispers, and Dean's chest constricts with guilt.

"No, angel, of course not," he rushes to re-assure.

"But, Dean, you haven't fucked me in _weeks_."

"What are you talking about? We have sex all the time," he says, playing dumb. Even though he knows exactly what Cas means.

"No," Castiel replies, turning around. "You make _me_ come all the time, but you barely even get hard. What about _your_ needs?"

"_My_ needs?" he echoes. "Uh…" Dean swallows tightly, his throat suddenly going dry.

"Talk to me, Dean," Castiel hums, cradling his length and nuzzling into its soft flesh. "Tell me what you need."

Dean bites his lip, carding his fingers through Cas' unruly hair. "Do you… uh… do you want to try topping again?" he asks hesitantly.

"Dean, we tried that last weekend already. I don't want to do that again if you're not going to enjoy it," Cas replies.

"Hey, I enjoyed it!" he protests.

"You know what I mean, Dean," Cas says quietly, cutting through his bravado again, and Dean deflates.

"I don't need to be hard to enjoy feeling you inside me, Cas," he murmurs. "I know you understand what that's like."

"I do. But I don't want to risk it," Cas says firmly, fixing him with those big, blue eyes of his. There's a sadness in those eyes, and Dean knows Castiel is worried about triggering memories of his past with Alastair. But there's such a deep care that comes with that worry, such a strong devotion to his happiness, that goes far beyond the physical realm of pleasure. Dean smiles softly, melting under that gaze.

He is _so_ in love with Castiel. Helplessly so. Otherwise he would never have let Cas take him on the rack, that first time at The Pit last year. Would never let Cas _keep_ topping him, every now and then. And keep domming him, when he really, _really_ needs it. Dean's been dom to a lot of people, but he's rarely ever subbed, and that in itself shows how much he loves Cas. But at the same time, he never feels Cas' love more than when Cas dommes him.

It took a long time for Dean to be able to open himself up to that kind of love and care in return. And now, even _that_ isn't enough. It doesn't seem fair. He doesn't know how much more he can ask of Castiel, and the last thing he wants to do is _lose_ him. He knows that Cas loves him, and loves what they have together, but when that isn't enough anymore, will Cas still want to stick around? The very possibility that Cas might leave scares Dean so much, he ends up falling over himself doing everything possible to make Cas happy.

Everything _possible_.

Unfortunately, he's so anxious all the time now, he can't even get it up anymore. It's like some cruel joke, or something. And he doesn't know how long he can keep Cas satisfied with their toys. Their many, _many_ toys. But Cas has always preferred to feel _Dean_ inside him, given the choice.

"I'm sorry, angel," Dean croons. "Things aren't great at the garage right now. I mean, we're doing okay with crash repairs, but we haven't had an actual restoration job in a while," he says, trying to explain it away.

Castiel leans on his thigh again, caressing his flanks in comforting circles. "I'm sorry I haven't been around as much for you," he murmurs.

"You don't have to apologize, Cas," Dean replies. "Your promotion is a good thing. Especially now, with the way the garage is going," he huffs.

"Dean," Castiel frowns, climbing into his lap and cradling his face with his hands, forcing Dean to look him in the eye. "It's not just the garage though, is it? I sense that there's something else."

"I tell you what, Cas – Wear the priest costume, and maybe _then_ I'll confess all my sins," he smirks, using humor to deflect Cas' concern again.

"Alright," Castiel replies seriously, not even a second of hesitation. "If that's what you want," he murmurs.

"I do," he grins, playfully nipping at Cas' lips. Castiel sighs resignedly, realizing the conversation is over, and slowly starts to return Dean's kisses.

"I suppose you'll want me to wear those satin panties underneath, am I correct?" Castiel huffs, put-upon, but there's a hint of smirk at his mouth when he says it.

"Mmm," Dean hums appreciatively at the thought. "Yes, father."

Castiel groans, wrapping his arms tightly around Dean's neck and pulling him in for a real kiss, using teeth to tug and tease at his stud while sucking filthy on his tongue.

"Would you like to come now, angel?" Dean asks when they pull away for air.

"Yes, please, Dean," Castiel whimpers, tears of relief welling up in his eyes at the promise of release.

"Okay," Dean whispers, laying Castiel down on the couch, and on impact the tears fall down the sides of Cas' face. "Shhh," Dean hushes him gently, leaning down to press soothing kisses to Castiel's lips as he brushes the wetness away. Castiel whimpers again, letting his legs fall open as he squirms underneath Dean with need.

Pressing one last kiss to Cas' lips, Dean settles back on his haunches, spreading Castiel's thighs even further to watch the way he writhes and clenches around the vibrator in his hole. Even after hours of stimulation, Castiel is unfailingly hard, precome oozing so heavy, it sticks to everything it lands on, in thick tendrils from Castiel's slit. Dean smiles in awe, tracing the leather strap around Castiel's balls, keeping him from coming all this time.

"Please, Dean. _Please_," Castiel mewls at the touch, and because he begs so pretty, Dean unstraps him, massaging the circulation back into the flesh as Castiel sobs and gasps at the rush of blood.

"Get ready for it," Dean warns, picking up the remote extension. As he turns the vibrator up on high, a garbled and satisfying cry is wrung from Castiel's throat, that sounds a lot like Dean's name. With a pleased smirk Dean watches Castiel's blue eyes roll back in pleasure, neck stretching taut and hips thrusting and shaking as his hole flutters around the buzzing toy, so close the edge.

Dean reaches towards Castiel's cock, but doesn't take it in hand. Instead he flicks at the tip, sharply, and the sudden stimulation wrings another cry from Castiel's lips, such a contrast after hours untouched. And before Castiel even has a chance to catch his breath, Dean closes his fingers together and whips them against Cas' neglected cock – once – twice – Castiel's dick bobbing against his stomach with each impact and sending pre-come everywhere. Only a few more slaps, and Castiel's cries become one, long wail, and he stripes himself in thick white spurts, all the way up to his neck.

"That's it. Beautiful," Dean husks, lightly pumping Castiel through it. He would love to be able to take his own erection in hand right now, criss-cross Cas' come with his own, but more so because he knows that's what Cas wants of him. Not so much for his own pleasure. Castiel in climax is one of the most beautiful things Dean's ever seen, and he's happy enough just to sit back and watch, whispering praise and endearments.

This time Castiel's orgasm hits him long and hard, and he's still twitching out come long after Dean lets go of his cock to play with the spunk on his chest, smearing it over Cas' un-pierced nipple and twisting it wet. And when Cas is finally done, Dean carefully wipes him clean, stroking his arms and pressing kisses all over his face and lips until he becomes lucid again.

"Come on, angel-face, let's get you into bed," Dean murmurs. Castiel makes an unhappy sound, burrowing into Dean's chest like a sleepy child, and Dean can't help but chuckle fondly at him. "Come on, angel, I know you can do it," he encourages softly. "And you'll be much more comfortable once you're there," he says, sitting up.

Castiel makes another unhappy sound, but spreads his legs nonetheless, allowing Dean to remove the vibrator still nestled inside him and slide in his usual steel plug, keeping him stretched and ready for whatever Dean may want to put inside him next.

"That's it. Good," Dean croons, and Castiel lets out a small sigh of content as the plug settles into place. "Now go on," he orders, taking up the leash attached to Castiel's collar, and Cas obediently slides off the couch to the floor.

He watches with amazement as Castiel begins to crawl to their bedroom on all fours, the wings tattooed on his back rippling as his muscles shift under the skin, the plug between his cheeks flashing and the chain of his leash shimmering and tinkling with every movement. Like Dean always says, everything's better with a little bit of metal, and Castiel is no exception. But then again, Cas is damn near perfect to begin with.

Dean is so lost in the sight of him, he doesn't even realise the leash has gone taut in his hand, until Castiel twists to look over his shoulder at him, raising an enquiring eyebrow. As he belatedly hops off the couch to follow, he wonders just who is really doing the leading anymore, and whether that's something he needs to be worrying about as well. But once he secures the end of Castiel's leash to the head of their bed, and crawls under the sheets into Castiel's waiting arms, Dean decides it doesn't really matter, as long as Cas stays right here, with him.

~

Dean sleeps fitfully, lacking the help of an orgasm to release all the pent-up energy and tension inside him. And when he does sleep, his dreams are filled with blue-eyes and wings, and the sound they make when they're flying away. His only comfort is that each time he wakes up, Castiel is there, sleeping beside him – until suddenly, he isn't.

"Cas?" he calls out, panic leaping into his chest as his hand searches the cold sheets beside him. But then he feels a frustrated huff of air in between his legs, and not only does it tell him where Castiel is, but what Cas is also trying to do – as the puff of breath only accentuates the fact that his skin is wet with spit. Lifting the sheets, he sees Castiel's face near his crotch, frowning at his limp dick, and Dean sighs. He can't even get morning wood anymore.

"I'm sorry, Dean," Castiel says, his lip actually trembling as he apologizes. "I just want to feel you inside me," he whispers, eyes brimming with tears.

"Oh, angel," Dean sighs, his chest tightening painfully at the heartbreak on Castiel's face. The tears spill over as Castiel crawls out from under the sheets, presenting his rear for punishment, but as Dean raises his hand, he finds he just doesn't have it in him.

"It's okay, angel," Dean says, stroking the curve of Castiel's ass. "Come here," he orders softly.

Castiel's eyes are filled with confusion when he turns back around, but he obeys nonetheless, crawling into Dean's waiting arms and letting himself be coddled. Dean tries to soothe him with soft kisses, petting Castiel's hair and wiping away his tears as they fall, but it does nothing to wipe away the confusion in Castiel's eyes. And for good reason. One of the first things Dean ever taught him was that he wasn't supposed to initiate something without explicit orders, so for Cas to even try speaks volumes about how bad things are getting. But Dean just can't bring himself to punish Cas for something that isn't really his fault.

No, this is all on Dean. It's _his_ fault he can't give Cas what he needs. And he's _not_ going to take his frustration out on Cas.

He's just going to have to be a little more creative.

"On your back, angel. Hands up top," Dean orders, opening their bedside drawer and pulling out the lube. The toys they use most often are in that drawer as well, but Dean bypasses them altogether, getting off the bed to slide out one of the large leather boxes underneath.

It's time for the big guns.

Castiel's eyes widen as Dean lays out the toys he wants to use, one by one. First, a large rubber dildo, larger than Dean even. Next, a clear plastic plug, the largest and roundest he owns. And finally, the largest, thickest dildo he has. The kind that brings to mind the expression "hung like a horse."

"Are you ready for this, angel-face?" Dean asks, smirking. Castiel rips his gaze away from the toys at the sound of Dean's voice, eyes still wide as he nods, gripping the top bar of their bed's headboard tight.

"Good," Dean smiles genuinely, stroking Castiel's face with his thumb. "I'm going to make this so good for you, angel," he whispers, leaning over to give Cas one last kiss, assuring and grounding them both.

Taking one of Castiel's ankles in his hand, Dean pushes Cas' leg back over his head, far enough for Dean to strap it in one of the leather cuffs, hanging from a chain around the corner post of the bed. He does the same with Castiel's other leg, strapping it in the cuff hanging from the other corner, and effectively spreading Castiel as wide open and exposed as possible. He briefly considers cuffing Castiel's wrists to the top bar of the bedhead as well, but this time the straps are meant to make Cas more comfortable, not to confine him. So Dean slides a pillow underneath Castiel's hips, making the position a little easier, and grabs the towel hanging over the bedhead to lay underneath him. They're going to need a _lot_ of lube.

Once he's done re-strapping Castiel's testicles, he slips Cas' usual plug free, sparing a moment to admire the way his hole gapes from its absence, fluttering in the sudden emptiness with the need to filled. Dean smirks, picking up the first dildo and coating it with lube, making a show of jacking its length, slow and wet. There's nothing spectacular about this particular toy. In fact, they rarely use it, preferring to use things like vibrators and beads instead. Which is why they keep it under the bed. But Dean's going to use it now because it's larger than him, so it's a good place to start. And by the time he's done with his little lube show, Cas is salivating for it.

_Oh,_ Cas groans so pretty when Dean slides it in, hips squirming to take it deeper and legs kicking against his chains. Castiel _loves_ having hole filled, fucked, fondled, anything. And Dean's come to love giving Cas what he wants. He doesn't even have to aim for Cas' prostrate, Cas' hole is so sensitive all on its own. But it's still too early for that anyway. Dean's not aiming to stimulate yet, he's aiming to _stretch._

"Breathe, angel, we've still got a long way to go," he says, and Cas nods, trying to relax. "Good, that's it," Dean croons, stroking the inside of his thigh. When Cas is finally so loose, the dildo slips in and out of him with ease, Dean pulls it out all together, and reaches for the next toy.

"Alright, gorgeous, time for the next one," he says, calling Castiel's attention to the rounded plug in his hand. Castiel's eyes go wide again as Dean slicks it up with lube, smearing more into his open hole for good measure. But although the size of the thing is intimidating, they both know Cas can take it. The last time Dean used it on him, he made Cas kneel in a corner for a whole hour with it inside him, and Cas liked it so much he wriggled and squirmed around it the entire time, begging Dean to let him come.

It's with this knowledge Dean teases him, pressing the rounded tip against Cas' entrance and circling it, prodding his hole as if to slide it in, before teasing it some more.

"Dean! _Please!_" Castiel gasps, thrusting his hips in the air.

"Okay, you asked for it," Dean chuckles lowly, before pushing it in. Castiel takes the tip of it easily, already stretched by the dildo before. But after the first inch the plug becomes more and more rounded, and Dean has to go exceedingly slower, letting Castiel adjust around its shape in increments.

It's amazing to watch. Because the plug is clear, Dean gets a near perfect view of how Castiel's hole stretches wider and wider, until finally, the thickest part of it goes in. Cas _gobbles_ the rest of it up, easily, until all that's left is the handle Dean's holding. But this time, Dean doesn't let go. Doesn't let it just sit in there, even though Cas is nearly sobbing with pleasure. This time Dean keeps prodding, and twisting, pushing at Cas' insides and making sure he's as loose as he is on the outside.

It's a good thing Cas' legs are strapped open. In mere minutes Cas stops kicking against his chains, legs turning to jello. But his knuckles have gone white from how hard he's gripping the bar of the bed.

"You're doing so good, angel," Dean murmurs, pressing a kiss to the inside of Castiel's knee. "But we're only halfway there," he says, starting to pull the plug back out. Castiel groans miserably at that, making Dean chuckle again. "I know, gorgeous. I know," he croons, stroking Cas' thigh with his thumb as he uses it for leverage to pull. It's only a little easier sliding the plug out than it was getting it in, just because of the sheer size of it, so Dean still goes slowly, carefully, until finally, with a slick pop, it comes out.

Castiel's hole positively _gapes_ afterwards, and Dean bites down a groan at the sight. Grabbing the last dildo, he slicks it up with a ridiculous amount of lube. Castiel's eyes fly impossibly wide at the size of the thing, thick as an arm, and that's the whole point really. They've never used it before, but Dean knows Cas is ready for it now.

He goes in slow. So slow. Slower than before. And Castiel just _takes_ it, his hole thoroughly stretched from the girth of the plug. But this time, instead of tapering off after a few inches like the plug, this dildo just keeps going, and going, thick and round and long. And as it goes, a stream of curses begin to fall filthy from Castiel's lips.

Dean grins to himself when it starts. His angel's usually so good when they start to play – only using the words "yes," "no," or "please" for begging – even though it's been a long time since Dean's enforced those rules. These days, when Cas falls back to using those words, Dean simply takes it as a sign he's doing his job right. But when Cas loses control completely, and starts swearing like a sailor, that's some next level shit.

"Oh my fucking _Christ!_" Castiel shouts as Dean finally bottoms out, hitting deep enough that the only way to go, is back out. He begins to thrust, only managing a bare inch at a time at first. But before long, the thing starts sliding more smoothly, back and forth in Cas' hole.

Cas is a mess, cursing and groaning on the sheets, oozing precome all over himself. He loses his grip on the top bar of the bed, and his hands slide down to clutch at the supporting bars near his head instead, which is trashing side to side in his pillow.

"_Dean!_ Jesus fuck, _yes!_ Fuck me, fuck me, _please!_ God _dammit!_" he yells, eyes rolling with pleasure. And _fuck_ does Dean want to put his dick inside Castiel right now. But he's still as soft as rope. Even with an up close and personal view of the sex-god writhing on the bed in front of him.

"_Fuck!_" Dean curses under his breath. He pulls the dildo out all the way, and it comes so smoothly, Dean knows Cas is _more_ than ready. He picks up the lube, one last time, and covers every inch of his hand with it, all the way past his wrist.

Cas has been stretched so damn loose, Dean can sink three fingers into him straight away, easy. Four doesn't take much more work either. And when he folds his thumb in and starts pushing that in too, Cas' eyes finally fly open again, realizing what Dean means to do.

"Dean?" Castiel gasps, disbelief on his face.

Dean nods his head, smirking, but deadly serious, confirming Castiel's suspicions. Cas groans, dropping his head back onto the pillow, and that's all the invitation Dean needs.

Soon, the widest part of his hand is inside Castiel. But Dean doesn't stop pushing, carefully curling his fingers into a fist, until his hand is buried all the way up past his wrist. It was easier than he expected it would be, but Cas was well-prepared by the sheer girth of the last dildo. Dean's fist must feel like nothing in comparison.

But there's something Dean's fist can do that the last dildo couldn't. It can bend, and curl, and _aim, _with deadly accuracy. So as Dean thrusts his arm, in and out of Cas' hole, he curls his fist upwards, rubbing his knuckles _right_ into Cas' prostrate.

Cas screams. And screams. Wailing and clutching the bars of the headboard so tight, Dean thinks he actually hear them bending. Until finally, Cas' voice gives out, and his fingers come away from the bed's bars altogether, body going completely lax and just _taking _it.

For a second, Dean thinks he's broken him. Or that he's discovered a whole new level beyond filthy-sailor-mouth. Either way, he starts doing what he always does in an uncertain silence – he starts talking.

"Can you feel me, Cas?" Dean croons, still thrusting soft, but steady. "That's all me, inside you, fucking your sweet ass. _God _you feel so good inside. So warm, and _snug_," he murmurs, whispering filthy praises and grounding Castiel in the sound of his voice.

"_Dean_," Castiel mewls, finally coming back to him. So Dean just keeps talking, keeps fisting Cas inside, until with every press Castiel is mumbling "Dean, yes, yes, Dean, yes…"

"I'm gonna make you come now, angel, so hard," Dean tells him, but Cas just keeps up his litany of _Dean-yes-yes-Dean_. Even when Dean unstraps his balls, massaging the blood back into them. Even when Dean takes his cock in hand, and starts pumping in time with his fist. Then suddenly Cas garbles a choked noise, before going completely silent, climax spurting out of his cock and insides clenching tight around Dean's hand.

And then he passes out.

"Holy _shit,_" Dean curses under his breath, shocked and awed. "Cas?" he calls out, to no reply. "Cas!" he tries again, louder, but Cas still doesn't come to.

Carefully pulling his hand out of Cas' body, he quickly wipes it on the towel, crawling up the bed. "Cas?" he calls softly, lightly slapping Castiel's face with his other hand, but Cas still doesn't respond. Dean checks his pulse, and it's a little erratic, but it's still going strong.

"Son of a bitch," Dean barks a laugh. He really did break his angel.

But in the best way.

Grinning, he uncuffs Castiel's ankles, slowly massaging the circulation back into Cas' legs as he lays them back down on the bed. Then he heads for the bathroom to clean himself up, before bringing back a wet cloth to wipe Castiel down with. It takes a few trips to get Castiel clean, and he still hasn't woken up by the time Dean's done, so Dean leaves a cool cloth on his forehead, laying down beside him to keep vigil.

He doesn't know how long he stares, stroking his fingers through Cas' hair and pressing soft little kisses to Castiel's face. But eventually Cas' eyelids flutter open again, and when his gaze lands on Dean, he smiles.

"Hey," Dean smiles softly in return, pressing a chaste kiss to Castiel's lips. And when he pulls away, Castiel says,

"I love you."

So Dean kisses him again. And again. Until with every breath Castiel is whispering "I love you," and Dean soaks it up like the sun, letting it warm him through to his bones. As much as he wishes he could fuck Castiel the way they both want, Dean needs this just as much too.

_~ tbc_


	2. Chapter 2

_Doubt thou the stars are fire. Doubt that the sun doth move. Doubt truth to be a liar. But never doubt my love.  
-Hamlet, Act II, Scene ii_

~

For almost the entire week that follows, Castiel can't take anything more than Dean's tongue. And even then Dean has to be careful. Cas usually likes it when Dean teases him with his tongue-stud, catching it on his rim and tugging on it as he mouths at Cas' hole – but even _that_ is too much for Castiel to take.

On the upside, Dean doesn't have to worry about not being able to get it up for him. But Dean knows the reprieve will only last so long. By the time the weekend comes around again, they're back at square one, and he's all out of ideas.

"I have a suggestion," Castiel broaches quietly, and Dean's pretty sure they're about to have a talk about little green pills or something – but what comes out of Castiel's mouth instead is completely unexpected.

"Why don't we try going back to The Pit?"

"Do _what_ now?" Dean goggles.

"I'm not saying we have to… _do_ anything there. But maybe we can just… watch?" Castiel smiles nervously. "Who knows? We might pick up some inspiration," he shrugs.

"I dunno, Cas," Dean shakes his head, doubtful of the idea. He hasn't felt the need to return to The Pit in a long time. He can't deny that he's had some good times there, especially during the later years, but a lot of his early years there are tied up in the memory of how he ended up there in the first place. He was in a dark place then, struggling to regain some sense of control after Alastair, and it was a long time before he found himself going to the place just for the enjoyment of it.

"Dean, the last time we were there was very special to me. To _us_," Castiel says, and Dean can't help but smile fondly at the memory. Last year was a huge turning point in his relationship with Cas. A huge turning point in his _life._ Letting Cas take him in front of everyone – _claim_ him… Dean doesn't know how he even existed before then. He never knew that he wanted to _be_ owned just as much as he wanted _to_ own. Though by that stage, the two things had become the same.

But then again, Castiel has a way of making him want things he never realized he wanted.

"What have we got to lose?" Cas adds softly, and Dean barks a laugh, scrubbing a hand over his face to hide his reaction. It's only meant to be a harmless question, but it hits too close to the mark for Dean's liking.

"Dean?" Cas murmurs, sensing something's wrong. "We don't have to if you're not comfortable with the idea, it was just a suggestion."

"No, I know, angel," Dean croons, crumbling a little at the concern in Castiel's voice. The last thing he wants is to worry Cas as well. Dean sighs, pulling him close and pressing a kiss into his hair. "We can give it a try if you want," he says, mustering a smile.

~

The Pit, to Dean's eyes, is as unchanging as ever. It's still dark, and shadowy, walking the fine edge between a sense of mystery and the thrill of danger – air filled with the screams of electric guitars, singers that sound like they're possessed by demons, and the cries of the Chief's latest volunteer coming from the next room. But through Castiel's eyes, it's almost like seeing it anew, and Dean learns things about the place he never noticed before.

He already knows a few things, either through word of mouth, or because it's commonly known information. For instance, he knows that the bouncer at the main door with the dogs tattooed on his arms calls himself Cerberus, like the multi-headed hellhound that guards the gates of the Underworld. Just like the bartender calls himself Charon, after the ferryman that carries souls to Hades. And according to rumor, the bouncer downstairs who everyone calls 'T' is really named Tartarus. But that's just rumor.

Basically, the whole theme of the place seems to be inspired by different renditions of Hell. The staff all seem to have names from the Greek version of the Underworld, and Dean knows enough to recognize that the sign over the door to the main bar comes from Dante's _Inferno_. '_Abandon all hope, ye who enter here,'_ it says, just like the sign over the gates of Dante's version of Hell.

Dean just didn't know how much more of Dante's Hell actually made it into the place, until Castiel shows him. As soon as they get to the bar, Castiel points out the word painted on the dark wood near the ceiling. '_Acheron'_ it says, barely visible in the dim light, which is probably why Dean's never noticed it before. That, or the fact that he's usually looking _around_ the room instead of _at_ it, looking for a potential partner for the night. Or part_ners_.

Not anymore though. Now his attention is entirely on Castiel, as he explains what the word means.

"Acheron is the name of one of the five rivers of Hell," Cas says. "Appropriately, it's the river Charon ferries the dead across in order to enter Hades," he smirks, raising his glass to the bartender. Charon grins and salutes in return.

"Huh," Dean replies, impressed with Castiel's knowledge. As he guides Castiel towards a darkened booth in the back corner, he places a hand on the small of Castiel's back, the simple contact a clear sign of possession as he takes Castiel through the room and it's appraising eyes. It's the perfect location. They're mostly concealed by the dim light, but they can still see the rest of the room around them. In their quiet corner, they can even hear soft moans coming from the booths nearby. Not that Dean is really paying attention – it's just the ambience, really. And as soon as he's done with his whisky, he's nuzzling into Cas' neck, sliding his hand under Cas' shirt to play with the nipple ring there, intent on producing some of their own sounds.

"Dean," Castiel gasps a few minutes later. "We're being watched."

"Yeah, well, we knew that was going to happen when we came here, Cas," he replies, latching his lips onto Castiel's throat again.

"No, but, Dean, he's _really_ watching," Castiel protests.

"Of course he is, Cas. You're _really_ beautiful," Dean smirks.

"_Dean!_" Castiel laughs breathlessly, but Dean can still hear this unease in his voice. He pulls away, searching Castiel's face.

"What's the matter, angel? You've never been shy in public before," he frowns in concern.

"There's a difference between putting on a show for _you_, and putting on a show for some random creeper," Cas grumbles.

"Oh," Dean blinks stupidly, warmed by the distinction and unable to stop a little grin from twitching at the corner at his mouth, even as his arms tighten protectively around his angel. It's on the tip of his tongue to suggest that Castiel might be more comfortable _under_ the table, on his knees between Dean's legs… but Dean's not feeling _up_ to that, just yet. "Why don't we get another drink and see what the Chief is up to? It's darker in there," he suggests instead. Castiel nods and they head for the bar again.

Carrying their drinks to the exit on the other side of the room, they follow the winding corridor past the bathrooms towards the curtained entrance of the next room, the screams of the Chief's current victim getting louder and louder as they approach. It takes a few moments for their eyes to adjust to the darkness as they enter the room, but they soon see that it's packed – nearly every chair, bench, and ottoman taken by the Chief's audience. And on-stage, the Chief himself, flogging the bared ass of a large man, strapped onto a padded horse and completely immobilized, crying out as the Chief works his flesh. Dean finds an empty seat along the back wall, just big enough for one, and sits down, pulling Castiel into his lap.

"There, see?" Castiel leans down to whisper in his ear. "Above the stage, the word '_Styx.'_"

Dean looks up above the stage, and sure enough, he sees the paint there in the dark wood. "You mean, like the band?" he murmurs.

"Like the goddess," Castiel answers. "The river Styx is the most widely known out of all the rivers. It forms the boundary between Earth and the Underworld."

"Hmm," Dean nods, taking in the new information. "Kind of fitting," he replies, thinking of the rooms below.

Castiel doesn't say anything more after that, quickly becoming absorbed by the show. As the cries of the Chief's volunteer begin to reach a fevered-pitch, he begins to squirm in Dean's lap, and Dean can feel the pace of Cas' breath quickening with arousal. Slowly he slides his hand up the inside of Cas' thigh, and finds Castiel's dick hard and straining in his pants.

"_Oh_," Castiel sighs as Dean cups his hand around it, palming it through his leather-clad crotch. Castiel squirms even more at the stimulation, vainly trying to hold back his moans as Dean rolls and massages his flesh through the material of his pants – until Castiel very suddenly stops, freezing in Dean's arms.

"What is it, angel?" Dean whispers, immediately concerned.

"You're not hard," Cas whispers back reluctantly.

Dean blinks in surprise. It's true. And having Cas squirm around in his lap like that, in a room full of people secretly touching each other in the dark, while there's real-live flogging happening right in front of them, is _exactly_ the kind of thing that _should_ have Dean hard in a heartbeat.

"It's okay, angel. Just enjoy the show," he murmurs, rubbing Castiel's crotch again.

"No," Castiel hisses firmly, pulling his hand away. "That's not what we came here for," he says, standing up off Dean's lap.

Dean sighs, taking Castiel's hand as he stands up and letting himself be led back out of the room. They walk in silence through the winding corridor, this time taking the turn down the stairs, descending to the level below. When they reach the next landing, Castiel stops, grinning as he looks up at the doorways on their left and right.

"What is it?" Dean looks up, and sees the faded words painted above each doorway.

"_Cocytus_," Castiel says, pointing at the word above the left doorway. "The river of wailing," he smirks, and Dean barks a laugh. There's a thick curtain hanging over the doorway, but it does nothing to filter out the groans and cries coming from the room.

Then Castiel points towards the doorway on the right, leading to another small coatroom and bar, and beyond that, several small rooms for private use. "_Lethe_," Castiel reads. "The river of oblivion," he explains, turning to Dean. "The word '_Lethe_' literally means 'oblivion', 'forgetfulness', or 'concealment'," he says.

"Also fitting," Deans smirks. "So what'll it be angel-face?"

"Well," Castiel frowns, considering. "I didn't get to see much of the place the last time I was here," he says, glancing back to the left again.

"Gotcha," Dean grins, leading him through the heavily curtained doorway.

Castiel audibly gasps when he sees the room, though it's a wonder Dean can hear it over all the moaning and grunting, skin slapping on skin, leather striking flesh. It's a sight to see – the vast space filled with bodies in various stages of undress, in various positions – hanging from walls, suspending in slings, draped over the many beds or kneeling on thick glass tables, being watched from all angles – the mirrors lining the ceilings making the room seem twice as large, and twice as full of writhing flesh.

Dean sees an empty space on one of the large couches and heads for it, pulling Castiel along behind him. But when he goes to sit down, Castiel stops him, sitting down first and motioning for Dean to sit in between the V of his legs. Dean shrugs and sits down, laying back along Castiel's chest and leaning his head against Cas' shoulder, so Castiel can still see the room.

Directly in their view, a naked man hangs chained by his wrists from a metal frame, another man kneeling in front of him and mouthing his balls while yet another licks into him from behind, his mistress watching on and testing his nipples with a small electric prod. Pressed as he is against Castiel's chest, Dean can feel how Cas' breath hitches every time the man cries out, and pretty soon he begins to feel Castiel's erection nudging insistently into his back. Dean grins, reaching behind to unzip Castiel's fly, pulling his cock out.

"_Dean_," Cas hisses at the stimulation, breath hot and harsh against the side of his neck.

"You like that, Cas?" Dean murmurs, stroking him slowly. Castiel groans, right against the shell of his ear, sending shivers down his spine.

"Last time we were here, I claimed you, just like that," Cas murmurs into his ear. "Whipped you in front of everyone downstairs, then made love to you, so they would know you belonged to _me_," Castiel growls, grabbing Dean's jaw as he says it and turning Dean's face to meet his lips in a brutally possessive kiss.

"Yeah, Cas," Dean gasps breathlessly when finally Castiel pulls away. "Bet you want that now, don'tcha? Want me to chain you up, make sure everyone knows you're mine?"

"Dean, _yes,_" Castiel sighs, nuzzling along his jaw.

"Fuck, Cas, I want that so bad," Dean moans. But when Castiel's hand wanders down to his crotch, they both realize it isn't going to happen.

Dean huffs miserably, twisting around to curl up in Castiel's arms, giving up on the rest of the room.

"It's alright, Dean," Castiel murmurs soothingly. "We can still go downstairs, find a rack to strap me to. I still want that," he says, the 'at least' left hanging in the air between them. Dean huffs petulantly again.

"Please, Dean. I'd like to move somewhere else anyway," Castiel says quietly. "Our young creeper friend has found us again."

"Oh, now he's _young?_" Dean snorts, raising his head and looking around. When Cas said 'creeper' Dean had pictured some older dude with a lecherous leer. But sure enough, on the other side of the room, sitting next to two blonde women, is a pale young man, staring intently at them – young enough that his build is still slender underneath his dark clothes, but not too young for the light beard on his cheeks. He's… not unattractive. And there's something in the way he's watching them that's not so much creepy as it is... _hopeful_.

"Come on," Castiel urges him off the couch, clearly not interested in whatever it is the young man so obviously wants to approach them for. And that's just fine with Dean. He lets himself be led out of the room and back towards the stairs.

"I suspect the basement will be named '_Phlegethon'_ after the last remaining river of the Hell – the river of fire that leads to the depths of Tartarus," Cas explains as they descend the stairs.

"How do you know all this stuff, Cas?" Dean asks curiously.

"Religious family, remember?" Cas replies wryly.

"Hmm, yeah, sorry," Dean replies, squeezing his hand. "But I wonder why they used the names of the rivers instead of the nine circles of Hell? Aren't those more well-known?"

"Perhaps the owner has an affinity for water?" Castiel suggests. "Or maybe it's just that there's only five different areas here," he adds.

"You're so smart," Dean grins. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, Dean bangs on the door there three times. As they wait, Dean sees the word '_Phlegethon' _above the doorway in faded paint, and huffs a laugh, pointing it out to Castiel. He's amazed he never noticed all these little details before, and he's been coming to the place for years.

They don't have to wait long before the grill on the door slides open, and Dean sees a pair of familiar eyes, assessing him through the grate. "Hey, T," Dean grins.

"Dean. Didn't think you'd be back," T replies.

"Yeah well, that time of the year I guess," Dean shrugs. The grill slides shut again, and Dean hears the familiar sound of the door being unlocked from the inside, before it swings open. When T sees Castiel come in after Dean, his eyes widen minutely in recognition, and Dean preens a little with pride. Cas must've made quite an impression for the bouncer to remember him after just one visit, a whole year ago.

Then again, up until that night with Castiel, Dean had been notoriously dom-only around here, and notoriously unattached.

And it wasn't every day that someone managed to silence Meg with a single kiss.

"Meg will be disappointed she missed you," T smirks, glancing at Cas, and confirming Dean's suspicions.

"She's not here tonight?" Dean asks.

"Nah," T answers. Dean breathes an internal sigh of relief.

"Okay, thanks, T," he says, leading Castiel down the hall.

Most of the doorways are roped off for privacy tonight, the sounds of whips and cries coming through the curtains signalling masters already at work. But there's an open session at the end of the hall, so Dean heads in that direction. He leads Castiel through the curtain as discreetly as possible, so as not to interrupt whatever might be in progress, but it seems they've showed up in between sessions, by the way the guests are milling around.

Dean looks around in curiosity, wondering which master's room they've stumbled into. But as he looks around the room he starts to realize how out of the action he's been. He used to know nearly every face downstairs, but now he barely recognizes anyone.

"Excuse me, Castiel?" comes a soft-spoken voice, and then very suddenly Dean _does_ see a familiar face – in the form of their young stalker.

"Yes…?" Castiel replies, frowning.

"My name is Inias," the young man says. "I saw the two of you here last year."

"Inias, yes," Castiel echoes, face scrunched up in thought, and Dean vaguely remembers Meg mentioning the name as they were leaving last year.

"I was very… _impressed_ by you last year, and I was hoping, if you wanted, that you might let me… spend some time with you?" Inias stammers, a slight flush creeping across his cheeks as he speaks, and Dean can tell the guy doesn't do this very often.

"I'm sorry, but Dean and I are exclusive," Castiel replies, not unkindly, letting the guy down as gently as possible.

Dean finds himself squeezing Castiel's hand at the response, his chest swelling a little at the words. He already knows where they stand, but it's nice to hear it said once in a while.

"Please!" Inias blurts. "Just twenty minutes? Right here if you want!" he pleads.

Dean's eyes widen at the earnest look on the guy's face. They must've _really_ made an impression last year for the guy to want it so bad.

And… it's not like anything else they've tried tonight has worked so far.

"Maybe we should give him a chance," Dean leans over to whisper in Castiel's ear. "He seems like a sweet kid, and he really seems to want you," Dean shrugs. "I don't mind if you just want to give him a little spanking. We've tried everything else."

"Dean, I… I don't think I can," Castiel whispers, eyes wide with trepidation.

"I _know_ you can, Cas," Dean encourages him. "You know you don't have to do anything you don't want to… But you're always so good with me. I know you could be good for him too," he murmurs.

And for some reason, _that's_ when it happens. For some reason, the idea of Cas domming someone else, makes Dean twitch in his pants.

"Fuck!" Dean gasps in surprise, looking down at his crotch. "Um, I think I like this idea," he says, stunned.

"Seriously?" Cas gapes in disbelief.

Dean nods, dumbfounded.

Castiel snaps his mouth shut, jaw set with resolve as he turns to Inias. "Fifteen minutes," he tells him, and Inias cracks a smile that so completely transforms his face, Dean can't help but grin as well.

Dean immediately goes to ask T which master he has to sort out the rack-time with, but when T hears what they want to do, he goes to arrange it for them himself. In less than a minute, T comes back with the thumbs up.

Castiel inhales a deep, shaky breath at that, and Dean squeezes his hand, giving him an encouraging smile. "You can do this," he murmurs, and Castiel smiles at him gratefully, stealing one last fortifying kiss from his lips, before letting go.

Turning to Inias, Dean hears Castiel ask, "What's your safeword?"

"Metatron," Inias replies, and Castiel's eyebrows raise momentarily in surprise. Well, even Dean has to admit, using the name of a Transformer is a pretty unusual choice, but maybe it's one of those words that actually have a "_safe_" association. Like a childhood toy or something. Most of the time people choose words that they _never_ want to think of in the middle of a scene. Or during sex, if that's involved.

"Alright," Castiel says, and Dean hears the change of tone in his voice, already more authoritative with that one word. "You will only speak when spoken to, and when you do, you will only use the words 'Yes', 'No', or 'Please' if you want to beg," Castiel says, and Dean grins at the familiar spiel. He can't believe it's been nearly two years since he last used it – nearly two years since the first time he used it on Castiel.

"…And you will refer to me as 'Sir' at all times," Castiel adds, and Dean raises an eyebrow at the new stipulation. He never used to bother with titles like 'Sir' or 'Master'. It reminded him too much of his time before, with Alastair. And using titles or names implied some kind of relationship, inherent in the dynamic. So he just avoided it altogether, kept the sex as anonymous and unattached as possible, so it was clear to everyone involved that they were just there for a good time.

Yet somehow Cas broke through that barrier. He was the first person in a long time that made Dean want to know his name. And the first person that Dean wanted to keep around for more than a night. He hasn't regretted anything since.

But now, the whole 'Sir' thing, coming from Castiel… Dean has to admit, it's fucking _hot_.

"Do you understand what I've said?" Castiel asks Inias, the low growl in his voice demanding respect.

"…Yes, sir," Inias all but whimpers, and Dean has to swallow down a similar sound, his cock twitching to attention in his pants. Yeah, he _definitely_ likes this.

"Very good," Castiel smiles. "Now please go lie on the rack, face down. Undo your pants," he orders.

"Yes, sir!" Inias replies excitedly, and his fingers tremble so much he can barely get his belt undone, rushing to obey Castiel's commands.

When he finally lies waiting on the rack, Castiel just watches him for a long moment, letting the anticipation build as he considers his approach, and testing Inias' patience with it. By the time Castiel steps forward, the room has fallen so silent, the mere sound of his bootfall is enough to make Inias' whole body shudder.

"Very good," Cas murmurs when he reaches Inias' side. Then, taking Inias' wrist, Cas guides his arm up towards the leather cuff on the metal frame of the rack. "Dean," Castiel calls as he fastens Inias' wrist in the strap, and Dean rushes forward to help, strapping Inias' other arm to the frame. "Spread," Castiel murmurs softly as he goes to cuff Inias' ankles as well, and then "Good," when Inias obeys, stroking a hand down his thigh.

When Inias is securely strapped in, Castiel then reaches around his waist, pulling his pants down to his knees, and then his boxer-briefs, exposing his rear-end to the room. Dean is impressed with the carefulness Castiel does it, so gentle that Inias' breath hitches at every contact, as clinical as it may be at the moment. But then, once Inias is exposed, Castiel lets his hand hover over Inias' skin, just over the small of his back – not touching, but still close enough for Inias to feel the heat of Castiel's palm – a tease that sends Inias' breath to a frenzied pace.

"Shhh," Castiel soothes, slowly following the path of Inias' skin – over the curve of his rear, down his trembling thighs – and Cas hasn't even really touched Inias yet, but the young man is already fighting to swallow down his moans. It's ridiculously hot, the power Castiel has, and Dean finds his own breath speeding up as well, just from watching.

"Dean," Castiel murmurs again, calling his attention and motioning for him to turn the bed.

Dean nods, biting down the urge to reply 'yes, Cas!' as he reaches for the handle that will rotate the frame into an upright position.

"Thank you, Dean," Castiel murmurs, giving him a soft smile, and Dean nods again, getting the message and stepping back into the shadows to watch with the rest of the onlookers.

Castiel then turns to the small wheeled-table next to the rack, perusing the available tools. Dean can see a flogger hanging over the side of the table, and while it's the most commonly used tool, Castiel picks up a flat rubber paddle instead. Dean approves of the choice. It's a simple tool, but the flexibility of the rubber offers a variety of use. Wooden paddles are mainly designed to bruise, but rubber ones can do anything from tease to punish.

As expected, Castiel starts easy, using the paddle to spank Inias lightly, almost playfully, testing Inias' response. But by the time it happens, Inias is so tense with anticipation, his entire body jumps at the tease, and he's unable to stop a sob from escaping his throat.

"Do you like that?" Castiel husks, barely loud enough for Dean to hear.

"Yes, sir," Inias mumbles, cheeks flushed.

"Then you're allowed to say, 'Thank you, sir,'" Castiel instructs.

"Thank you, sir," Inias mumbles, and Dean erection throbs. He never taught Cas to say that, but it's so insanely hot, he doesn't know why he didn't. He almost wants to order Inias to speak up, but Cas is in charge now, and he understands that Castiel is easing into it, for both their sakes.

"Very good," Castiel croons, soothing a hand over Inias' hair. "Now just relax, and enjoy it."

"Yes, sir," Inias whimpers again, his body visibly loosening at Castiel's touch.

Castiel's next strike across Inias' ass is harder, and while Inias still jumps and gasps in response, he recovers more quickly, relaxing into it. "That's it. Good," Castiel praises.

"Thank you, sir!" Inias moans, and Dean has to readjust his pants. The guy responds so obediently, and so good for Cas, it isn't long before Cas' strikes start coming faster, and increasingly harder in strength. Beautiful cherry-red swells start to bloom across the pale skin of Inias' buttocks and thighs, and Dean's mouth begins to water at the sight of it.

Inias' moans soon become indiscriminate, exhaled with every breath regardless of the rhythm of Castiel's strikes. And Cas keeps up a steady stream of encouragement as he whips the paddle across Inias' flesh, murmuring as soft and gentle as his strikes are sharp and severe. Every now and then he'll pause breifly to murmur praise in Inias' ear or stroke his hair, letting Inias catch his breath, but also to check Inias closely, judging how much further he can push.

Seeing the way Cas is with him, Dean doesn't know why he's not feeling any jealousy, or even envy about it. When they were here last year, the thought of someone merely _looking_ at Cas funny made him feel a little sick inside. But now… Dean can hardly stand still, his dick becoming so hard as he watches the scene in front of him, it's nearly painful.

It seems Inias can barely contain himself either, wriggling and thrusting his hips in the air as he takes his strikes, seeking friction against the padding of the bed with _thank you_'s that begin to sound more like delirious rambling than actual responses. And then, not even ten minutes into it, Inias' entire body seizes up, and he comes, crying out one last "_Thank you, sir!_" with a long, drawn-out wail.

Dean just blinks, stunned, when it happens. But Castiel catches on quickly, ceasing his paddling immediately and pressing up along Inias' side, stroking his back and murmuring softly in his ear, easing him through it.

Dean finds himself breathless when it's done, awed at the response Castiel has evoked, and in only ten minutes. He has an inkling now of the kind of impression Cas must've made last year, wielding such power and showing such care and devotion at the same time – such a mesmerizing combination.

And it all belongs to _Dean._

By the time Dean snaps out of it, Castiel has already reset the bed to lie horizontally, and unstrapped Inias from the frame so that he's now lying gingerly on his side, recovering his breath. Dean grabs a towel and rushes over, handing it to Inias so he can wipe himself down.

"_Cas,_" Dean practically whines into Castiel's neck, pressing up against him and nudging his erection into Cas' thigh. Castiel hisses a shaky breath when he feels it.

"Inias, do you have friends here who can take care of you?" he asks softly.

"Yes," Inias replies breathlessly, nodding. "My friends Hester and Rachel are here," he says, looking over at the two blonde women they saw with him upstairs.

"In that case, I'm sorry, but I must go," Castiel says apologetically.

"I understand," Inias smiles at them, before fumbling around for the pocket of his pants and pulling out his wallet. "If you ever… want me for anything, please don't hesitate to call me," he says, handing them his card.

"I will send you my number as soon as I can, just in case you need to contact me as well," Castiel replies, ever considerate, trying to provide as much care as he can.

"Thank you, so much. For everything," Inias says, genuinely grateful.

"Well, I have a feeling I should be the one thanking _you_," Castiel replies, smiling as he catches Dean's eye. Dean's trying his best not to hop on his foot like a child in need of a bathroom, and luckily Cas senses his urgency, quickly finishing up their goodbyes and letting Dean drag him away.

They scramble back up the stairs in a mad rush, unable to stop themselves from pressing up against each other every now and then on the way, rubbing up against each other and revelling in the feel of how hard Dean is. By the time they make it to the private rooms they're both flushed and panting hard – but to Dean's dismay, they discover all the rooms are already in use.

"Son of a _bitch!"_ Dean curses. It's just his fucking luck.

"Dean," Castiel groans, practically panting into his ear by that stage. "The other room," he says, and Dean's eyes widen.

"In front of everyone? You sure?" Dean asks, but Cas is already nodding, pulling him across the hall.

"Want you. _Now,"_ Cas growls, and Dean can barely resist the urge to say 'yes, sir!' again.

"Fuck yeah, Cas," Dean groans, dragging Cas into the room by the hand. "I'll bet you do," he growls, scanning the room for a clear surface amongst all the bodies. "Want me to take you in front of everyone, don't you," he rumbles, finding an empty seat on one of the leather couches and making a beeline for it. "Want me to claim you, so everyone knows you're _mine!_" he snarls, throwing Cas down on the seat.

Castiel hits the leather with a dull thud, practically trembling with need by then, and whimpering, "_Yes! Yes!_"

"Shit, Cas, I'm gonna fuck you so hard," Dean growls, practically ripping off Castiel's pants. "You're gonna feel it for _days_," he promises.

"Dean! _Yes!_" Castiel moans, scrabbling at the rest of his clothes as Dean throws his own shirt to the floor, pushing down his pants. And when his erection bobs free, it bounces thickly off his stomach, precome smearing everywhere, he's so ready.

Thank God Cas is already prepped, lubed up and stretched by the plug he's been wearing this whole time. All Cas has to do is slide it out of himself, hook his arms under his thighs and hold himself open, before Dean is climbing onto the couch on top of him, and pushing in.

Dean doesn't mess around, plowing so deep on that first thrust, he hits home right off the bat. And all that tight heat, enveloping him so suddenly and so perfectly, after so long… It's a wonder he even hears Castiel's scream over his own groan of relief.

Or maybe Cas just screams that loud.

Not like they have any chance of holding back. It's been too long, and they've both wanted it so much. Dean _goes_ for it, grabbing onto the back of the couch so he can pull himself even deeper, harder, with nearly brutal force as he practically bends Cas in half beneath him, screaming and cursing at the top of their lungs.

"Do you like that?" Dean gasps, halfway between breathless and shouting. "Is that what you wanted?"

"Yes! _Yes!_" Castiel screams back, whimpering at the force of it.

"Say 'Thank you, sir!'" Dean yells.

Castiel sobs, gasping down air as Dean relentlessly pounds into him, before he finally manages to find enough breath. "_Thank you, sir!_" he shouts.

"Goddamn, Cas!" Dean whines at that, knees nearly buckling underneath him, before his whole body suddenly locks up, and his orgasm shoots out of him, one more glorious howl belatedly ripped from his lungs as it takes him over.

"_Dean!_" Castiel yells, clutching onto him as his own body begins to buck and seize, thick spurts of come spraying hot and perfect across their stomachs.

They're both still gasping for air, trying to regain their breath and their sanity, when they hear it. Applause. Dean lifts his head weakly to look around, having virtually forgotten where they are, and that they have a room full of people as an audience. And they're all applauding, expressions of amusement and impressed smiles on their faces.

He feels more than hears Castiel laughing beneath him then, and when he looks down, Castiel is grinning so wide Dean can't help but bark a laugh as well. He pumps a triumphant fist in the air for the benefit of their audience, before Castiel yanks him down by the neck, stealing the breath from his lips all over again.

_~ tbc_


End file.
